


Someday We'll Meet Again

by Gambler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Canon Compliant, Horcruxes, M/M, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Mystery, Not Epilogue Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24323908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gambler/pseuds/Gambler
Summary: The war had ended a year ago, and Voldemort was unquestionably dead. Thus, imagine Harry's surprise when he found Riddle appearing inside his library whole and intact.“Does it bother you, Harry, that your Patronus is drawn to me?”Harry froze. He hastily looked away when the man tried to catch his eyes, then hating himself for this. It made him feel like a coward.Out the corner of his eyes, he saw Tom’s smile, too sharp and all teeth.“Is that so hard to admit to yourself what you truly desire?”It's a story neither about resurrection nor time-travel.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my laptop for sometime. I finally mustered the motivation to finish it.

It had been a year since the end of the second wizarding war. When Harry thought about it, time passed rather quickly after that. Aside from public’s constant praising and somewhat annoying attention, life had been peaceful for the first time in eighteen years. No death threats, no unexpected dangers and adventures, eighth year had come and gone, and now Harry was a newly graduated Hogwarts student. It was almost too good to be real. 

“Is something wrong, Harry?” Hermione’s words snapped Harry out of his stupor. 

Across from the restaurant’s table, seated his two best friends. After graduating, Hermione decided to pursue a career in Unspeakable, while Harry and Ron signed up to Auror program starting next month. Busy life was approaching, so they were enjoying themselves while they could.

“I’m fine Mione. I’m just thinking…”

“That life is too peaceful too be true? Something may happen soon?” At Harry’s shocked expression, Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly Harry, it’s not like we haven’t known each other for seven years.” 

“Yeah mate, she probably even knows when you want to go to loo.” Ron mumbled around a mouthful of beef. 

“Ron, it’s disgusting! And how many times should I tell you to finish your food before speaking?” 

Harry grinned at the familiar banter. Some people were right, they really acted like an old married couple. Then his heart ached a little when he remembered Ginny. Their relationship had not processed quite well like everyone had expected. They had a lot of arguments about things they hadn’t have time to talk while the war was breeding. Like how Harry wanted to get married immediately after leaving school while Ginny thought they were too young to take responsibility for a family. She was probably right, Harry thought, but it didn’t stop him to want his own family. He knew Burrow would always welcome him, and he knew his friends would always be a big part of his life, but he just longed for a home to go back to after a day’s work, with his wife and children waiting for him. For a person who had lost a lot, Harry desperately needed to form new bounds to patch up those holes his families left behind. Lily, James, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Sirius…

Then his train of thoughts pulled a stop. Thoughts about Sirius reminded him of the letter Gringotts sent this morning, regarding Black family and Grimmauld Place. Clearly some distant relative of Black’s who arrived in Britain today wanted to stay in Grimmald for some time. As current owner and Lord Black, it was his duty to give permission and welcome them. He had completely forgotten about that. Well, better got going then.

Harry stood up. The sound he made attracted his friends’ attention. They stopped bantering and turned to face him. “There’s a guest I mentioned earlier I need to pay a visit,” He explained. “So, I’m leaving now.” 

Hermione’s brows pressed together. “Is that safe for you to go alone, Harry? What if whoever waiting for you is dangerous. Black is a family dives deeply into dark arts; granted there are exceptions, but you don’t know this one yet.” 

Sensing which turn this conversation would lead, Harry quickly put two hands up to chest, placating. “I’ll be fine, Mione. Have defeated the most dangerous dark lord, remember?” There, he blinked his left eye, trying to deliver a silent message to Ron. 

Bless the man, Ron winked back, and turned to sooth Hermione. “Come on, Mione. Harry is not a child who needs to mother. Heck, he’s probably the strongest in Defense among us. Besides if something happens, he will send Patronus to us, right Harry?” 

Harry nodded his head vehemently. Hermione obviously wanted to say more, but Harry had already stridden hastily away before she could stop him. Admittedly, Hermione’s cautious had saved them countless times in the past, but sometimes if people didn’t throw cautious to the wind and get through with it, nothing would be done. At least that was how Harry worked.

Harry walked out of the restaurant and apparated, landing in the narrow hall way of Grimmauld Place. It hadn’t changed since his last visit, which was during the winter break. Although he hadn’t wanted to come back at first, too many memories of the war and Sirius, Kreacher’s insistence of remaining in this place drove him back. After the war, the house elf and Harry’s relationship had a positive evolvement. Maybe Kreacher felt gratitude towards Harry who full filled Regulus Black’s wish, maybe Harry just treated him better than Sirius, Kreacher rarely insulted Harry and his friends now. If he didn’t like some of Harry’s friends, he would keep his mouth shut, and whenever Harry called, he would answer. Harry knew Kreacher could never replace Dobby, and he might never forgive Kreacher’s betrayal of Sirius, but he had started to see the house elf more and more as a kindred spirit, who’d also gone through the pain of losing important ones. 

“Kreacher.” With a ‘pop’ sound, Kreacher appeared in front of Harry. 

“Master Harry is calling Kreacher?” The elf bowed. 

“Yes, I want to know where my guest is?” 

“Master Harry’s guest is waiting in the family library. Should Kreacher go and inform him?” 

“That would be appreciated.” 

The elf dipped his head, then popping away. Another thing he adored about Kreacher was the elf never punished himself when been thanked. Probably because he thought himself above such behavior, Harry mused fondly. 

He waited for a few moments. When Kreacher popped back to inform him the guest ready, Harry went upstairs and walked straight to the library. With each step, his anticipation grew, nervous built and excitement sparked. ‘Get a hold to yourself, Potter.’ He mentally reprimanded himself. ‘It’s not like you don’t have to meet new people every few days.’ Though truth been told, it was not meeting strangers that made him nervous. No, it was all about meeting the Black’s relative. He knew he might be a bit prejudiced, but he just couldn’t shake off the impression Bellatrix and Walburga left. Hopefully that guy would be nothing like those two lunatics. 

Standing in front of the library’s door, Harry took a deep breath, and opened…then closed it. 

Right, his eyes must be playing tricks with him. Maybe it was the glasses? They hadn’t been cleaned for a while. He cast a Scourgify on them and took another deep breath. It would all be fine, he tried to reassure himself, just opened the damn door. 

He entered and blinked. Then blinked for a few more time. 

However, no matter how hard he prayed for the scene to change, how he wanted to believe it was all an illusion, standing there, body leaning against a book shelf was clearly Tom Marvolo Riddle in all his glory, who was currently too absorbed in his book to notice Harry’s enter. 

‘How?’ Harry thought frantically. ‘I destroyed all your horcruxes! You were hit by the killing curse. You shouldn’t have a way to come back! You should be dead, dead, dead, dead……’ 

As if somehow sensed Harry’s panic, Riddle looked up, and smiled. 

“Hello.” The man said. Lips curving, a perfect smirk formed on the aristocratic face. 

Harry stared. 

The man, or teenager really, looked not a day out of twenty. Harry would even say Riddle was a bit younger than himself if he didn’t know better. And strangely, what baffled Harry the most was not Riddle’s appearance. No, it was the mysterious happiness Harry felt the moment Riddle locked eyes with him. It was like greeting an old friend, welcoming a long-lost piece back to his body; it was euphoric, something deep inside his body sang with the connection, nudging him to go closer, closer……

Then instinct kicked in. Harry reached for his wand, fast as a serpent striking its prey, aiming at Riddle, and roared “ _Stupefy_!” 

To Harry’s disappointment, Riddle’s reaction was just as quick. He held the book up to block the strongest impact the spell had, which sent said book flying towards the opposite wall, and rolled to the other side to reduce its rest force. 

Half kneeling on the floor, Riddle scowled at him. “You know, it’s not very nice to use Stupefy as greeting gestures, especially in a library. It can really damage some old tomes…”

Without waiting for Riddle to finish, Harry struck again. “ _Reducto_!”

This time Riddle was even faster. He lowered himself just in time to dodge the blasting curse, while raising his palm as if to summon something. Belatedly, Harry remembered that the teenager version of Voldemort could do wandless magic. ‘Shit, the peace must have rubbed off my sensibility.’ Harry cursed at the same time as the holly wand slipped out of his hand. 

The air froze. Two raven haired teens glared at each other, one standing without wand and one kneeling with holly wand in his hand. Harry’s whole body tensed, ready for Riddle’s strike, and if necessary, to call Kreacher for help. Then, to Harry’s amazement and confusion, Riddle sighed and dropped his arm. 

“Never in a million years have I imagined the first meeting with my host would start as a duel.” Riddle shook his head as if exasperated. “Or is this a British tradition?” He mused while standing up, holding out the wand. 

At Harry’s unapprehending look, Riddle raised an eye brow. “Take it? But please refrain from attacking again. I don’t want to hurt my host during the stay. It’s not a polite thing to do I’m told.” 

Harry gulped at him. What was Riddle playing at? The Tom Riddle or Voldemort he knew would never brush aside an attack like this, let alone returning the offender’s wand. Was this trick to lower Harry’s guard, only to attack again the moment he relaxed? What were Riddle’s aims and purposes? Harry’s head swarmed with questions. This situation was quickly spinning out of control and he didn’t like it one bit. He felt panic rising again but quelled it down ruthlessly. Now was not the time to waste on useless sentiment. He would yell or blew up all he liked later, but he could not afford to falter in front of this man. One carelessness was quite enough. 

Thus, Harry took a calming breath to steady himself, eyeing the wand in Riddle’s hand wearily. “Forgive my impulse, Mister Riddle. Considering our personal history, it’s only natural for me to react in that way. If you don’t want to fight, then you should probably tell me what you are doing in my house and how did you get in?” The last few words were all but bit out. Harry distinctly remembered to ward Grimmald Place against any intruders. Did the ward somehow wear out?

A few moments past in silence. Harry kept his focus on the wand in case Riddle chose to attack again. Then as if to purposefully rile him up, Riddle chuckled. 

“Now I know why you’ve attacked. It’s a quite interesting coincidence.” 

“What did you mean ‘ _coincidence_ ’?” Harry asked through gritted teeth, suppressing the urge to snarl with all his might. 

“That my appearance is similar to a person enough for you to mistake me as him.” 

Harry’s gaze snapped up, then realizing his mistake a second too late. Blue eyes full of amusement met him, deep as ocean dark as night, something buried inside stirring to life. Instantly, the euphoria feeling returned with fierceness, and Harry had to force his gaze down quickly to avoid himself from doing something stupid. _What the fuck?_

“Stop playing games with me, Riddle. It’s impossible.” Harry hissed. 

“Oh, I assure you even if the odds are low it’s quite possible.” Harry must look so incredulous for the man to chuckle again. “I get you know about DNA? There are about twenty to thirty thousand of them. Yes, the possible combinations are enormous, but it’s not unheard of for one or two specific strands to be almost identical. So even if this Mr. Riddle and I are not related, our face can be very similar. Not to mention as I’m related to Black and every magical family in Britain has a distant or close relation to Black, Mr. Riddle likely has the same ancestor with me.” 

‘Right, so out of all the muggles and wizards on earth, you choose to look like my nemesis? My ass.’ Harry snorted in his head, but out right kept a blank face. It wouldn’t do for the man to say something that would catch him off guard again. And granted, Harry didn’t know a lot about biology, so the man could be telling the truth despite the low probability. Yet that still didn’t explain the bizarre feelings Harry encountered earlier. He would do some research about it later. For now, it seemed the best course of action Harry should take was pretending to believe the man’s explanation and saw if he could catch his slip later. 

Harry sighed, and put on his most friendly facade. “You have my sincere apology, sir. Hopefully I can make up to you during your rest stay.” As an afterthought, Harry recalled he hadn’t asked the man’s name. “May I know your name?” 

The smile Harry received was dazzling. 

“Thomas Dunkle.” 

* * *

“So, you are saying that relative of Black’s looks completely the same as young You-Know-Who, has the same first name even, and you don’t think you should call DLE?” If Harry was not so tired, he might laugh aloud at the face Ron made. 

“You think it was not the first thing I thought after the meeting? He has Gringotts’s heritage paper though.” Harry grabbed a cluster of hair, frustrated. “It was sent along with the letter, which I hadn’t bothered this morning. I just went through the whole thing but couldn’t find anything suspicious. Dunkle really didn’t have any blood relations with Voldemort.”

Right after Harry excused himself from the library, he retreated to the living room and asked Kreacher to bring Ron and Hermione there immediately. He then scanned the heritage paper carefully, hoping to find anything incriminated, but had no luck so far. 

“Could that paper, you know, be forged?” Ron asked. 

“Highly unlikely.” Hermione interjected, having just finished checking and was now putting the paper down. “Goblins have made it impossible for wizards and witches to interfere their products, if not, fake galleons would be inflating the markets now.” 

Heaving a sigh, Harry leaned back against the chair. “Hermione’s right. I really hope it can be faked but even Voldemort can’t completely deceive the goblins. I just want to know how all this happened.” He murmured. Why was that whenever Harry’s life was back on track Voldemort would appear again and ruin everything? Even in death the man’s shadow kept hunting him, through nightmares and now Thomas Dunkle. Even with all the evidence indicating Dunkle’s innocence, Harry couldn’t believe it, not when the strange connection existed. 

“So, what now? I get there’s nothing you can pin point on this guy, but you are not going to let him live here, are you? He can actually be You-Know-Who’s son and is planning a revenge for all we know.” Ron fidgeted on his seat, looking extremely uncomfortable with this idea. 

Harry shrugged. “Why not? At least this way I can keep an eye on him.” And figuring out what the connection was went unsaid. For some reasons, telling Ron and Hermione about it didn’t feel right for Harry. Also, he’d already relied on them too much. He could do this alone.

Hermione looked concerned but seemingly remembered Ron’s earlier ‘mother’ comment, so restricted herself. Instead she offered “If you want, we can live here with you for a little while, just like old days? We won’t have as much time together after work starts.” 

Harry considered her words, and was about to reply when Dunkle walked in. Dunkle’s gaze roamed the room, stopping on both Ron and Hermione briefly, and finally landed on Harry. 

He grinned. “Here you are, _my lord_.” 

Harry nearly fell off the chair. Vaguely, he heard two sharp intakes. 

“What?” Had his ears failed him? His organs seemed to have a lot of problems today. 

“My lord?” Dunkle repeated, then frowned at three alarmed face, sounding puzzled. “Why are you like this? Isn’t he Lord Black?” 

Hermione recovered from shock first. Holding the wizard's gaze, she chose her words carefully. “You are from North America, right? Am I to assume that, pure blood traditionists tend to call the head of family ‘my lord’ there?”

“Your assumption is correct.” Dunkle nodded approvingly. “Ever since my family moved from Britain to North America it has been made a point to follow traditions, something about remembering our roots. Are British no longer doing it?” 

“No!” Harry snapped, finally waking Ron from haze. “I don’t care what other people do or do not. You don’t get to call me that.” 

Unperturbed by the venom dropping from Harry’s words, Dunkle merely dipped his head. “Apologize, Lord Black. I will address your full title from now on.” 

“It’s not what I meant! Why can’t you just call me Potter?” 

“I’m not calling you with another family name.” Dunkle sounded defensive, as if Harry had suggested something unacceptable. “You are the head of Black family. You will always be Lord Black to me.” 

Harry felt throwing hands in the air. God, he couldn’t deal with this right now, some stupidity about names and titles. Why couldn’t the man leave him alone for a while? Obviously not. 

Irritated, Harry bit out. “Fine! Just call me whatever you want.” 

The moment Harry finished speaking, Dunkle’s expression changed abruptly. Gone was the confusion and seriousness, instead a toothy grin full of triumph bloomed on that handsome face. “Thank you, _Harry_.” The man purred, voice tender, sending a shudder down Harry’s spine. He caught Harry’s eyes for a fleeting second, and before Harry could react, spurn around and left the room. 

Harry stared at the spot Dunkle had just left; then putting his face in both hands, groaned. 

“I had been played, hadn’t I?” 

“Yeah, mate, you had.” Ron put a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Don’t worry though, we all had. That was good.” Which did not appease Harry at all. 

Harry wanted to dig a hole on the ground then burring himself inside. It was a general title, not related to Voldemort specifically, so why had he reacted in this way? Unless Dunkle knew exactly what kind reaction those two words would bring and was using it to tease Harry. He would get the man back on this, Harry promised himself furiously. 

“It’s strange.” Hermione’s voice brought Harry out of his scheming. Now he thought about it, she was uncharacteristically silent during the whole exchange. 

“What’s wrong, Mione?” Harry asked. Had Hermione also felt something while holding Dunkle’s gaze? 

Hermione’s answer confirmed Harry’s suspicion. “Earlier when I cast legilimency on him, I discovered something I’d never seen.” Ignoring Ron’s ‘What? What if he finds out. Are you crazy?’, Hermione continued. “Usually when using legilimency on someone who’d built Occlumency, people would meet some force trying to push them back, not with Dunkel though. I felt absolutely nothing when I tried to push into his mind. It was as if he was not there, standing in front of me; it was as if he didn’t even exist.” 

Her words left Harry to wonder, what did this mean. 

* * *

In the end, Harry declined Hermione’s offer. It was not that he felt confident enough to deal with this man alone, far from it. Harry was constantly swept off ground when facing him. Where Voldemort could at least be predicted on some levels, Thomas Dunkle would strike at the most unexpected moments. Harry had known Voldemort his whole life, his weakness and strength. Harry knew how to make Voldemort tickle, and this knowledge was what gave Harry the advantage to win in the final battle. However, when came to Thomas Dunkle, Harry found himself absolutely knew nothing. Was the man Voldemort himself somehow coming back to life? Or was he the dark lords’ offspring who was planning a revenge on Harry for killing his father? Or, as the test proved, was this man a Black who was just visiting ancestor’s house with no malicious intention? Harry couldn’t figure out, and it was driving him mad. Yet despite all the worries, excitement sparked in his chest. For a year’s quietness, finally another opportunity of challenge was presented to him. Even with potential deadly consequence Harry would surely take it; he was not a Gryffindor for no reason. Besides, Harry’s guts feeling kept telling him that the man would only show his true intention when they were alone, and since he had been trusting his instinct for his whole life, he did just that. 

Harry was currently researching in Black family’s library, thankfully with no Dunkle in sight. He was a little worried what the man would be up to, but decided against following, taking no chance of raising the man’s weariness. 

‘I probably should just call him Tom, as he insists on calling me my first name.’ Harry thought absently, turning a page. ‘With any luck, he may even have a similar reaction to Voldemort’s. Though I doubt it, I can at least try. If only I can still speak parseltongue…’ He knew he was drifting, but he couldn’t help it, not with how tedious the book was. 

When he started investigating the bound, Horcrux immediately came to his mind. Unfortunately, the only book he found so far merely had a basic definition of Horcrux, which he already knew. He suspected his situation was unprecedent. Therefore, there were no written documents on potential influences a Horcrux would have on its host. Then he moved to other books that had ‘bounds’ or ‘connections’ written on the cover, but again found nothing significant. Most of them were mating bounds among creatures that didn’t suit for their situation. Harry knew he was not a creature, and he doubted Tom was. Certain creatures, like vampires and werewolves, had natural Occlumency not nothingness as Hermione had described, and most mating bounds were different from what Harry felt anyway. Harry didn’t feel lust or arousal as mating bounds suggested; he didn’t even feel attraction toward Tom. Handsome, yes, he could appreciate it on aesthetics’ level, but it was nothing sexual. What Harry felt was…rightness, happiness, contentment, like going back to home. Harry snorted. How ironic, to associate the mysterious and potentially dangerous man with the opposite things. 

Harry’s attempt was proved to be futile when he put the last book down. He sighed. If he couldn’t find a thing in Black’s library, he didn’t know where to look next. Anything useful on this kind of subject had been removed from Hogwarts’ restricted section already, and he didn’t think he could get a hand on Malfoy’s collections. Draco and he were no longer enemies, but neither were they friends. As he suppressed a yawn, Kreacher popped in to inform him dinner ready. Harry decided to worry about the research tomorrow, so called it a day. 

When Harry walked in the dining room Tom was already there. Said man gave Harry a polite nod and greeted. “Hello Harry, how was your day?” 

“Not as good as yours I imagined, Tom.” 

Pleased by his answer—most possibly by Harry’s change of name—Tom’s grin widened. “Thank you, I’ve had one of the best days in my life. Britain is so much different from my hometown, and discovering new things always makes me exited.” 

Harry shrugged, sitting down, but inwardly rolled his eyes. ‘Like finding new ways to get under my skin.’ He was a bit petulant with the lack of result his tactic brought, even though he’d guessed the outcome. 

Dinner continued in silence. Harry hadn’t bothered with small talk, deciding he was too tired to play mind games, and Tom hadn’t tried to initiate a talk either. Pity, seemed Harry wouldn’t have the chance to see the disappointment on the man’s face. But when he found a dish Kreacher never made before, Harry paused. 

“Is that lobster?” 

“Yes, it’s my gift for you.” Automatically Harry raised head to look at the man, remembering not to make eye contact this time. Tom gestured toward the dish. “Why don’t you have a try? I brought it from my hometown and made it myself.” 

Harry looked at the lobster wearily, but it smelt too good to resist. Figuring if it was poisoned Kreacher would warn him, Harry gave in to his desire, and was immediately rewarded with a delightful taste.

“It’s delicious! I don’t know you can cook this well. Most purebloods in Britain relied thoroughly on house elves.” 

“And my family didn’t teach me either. I learned it from a muggle chief.” 

Harry was startled. The man kept giving unexpected answers today. “You learned from a muggle?” 

Tom smiled knowingly at Harry’s unbelieving tone. “You presume because I don’t like muggles, I will dismiss all their techniques. Although you are not wrong about my dislike of muggles, there’s a phase saying, ‘learn from your enemy’.” 

“But muggles are not enemies. They are people just like us.” As soon as the words left Harry, he regretted. No matter the man’s intention, he had given Harry a gift, a nice one, and how did Harry repay him? By starting an argument that never ended well in the past. Harry cursed his old habit and uncontrolled tongue. 

Whatever Tom’s reaction Harry expected was not nonchalance. The man merely said in a calming tone. “No one can escape prejudice. People make assumptions based on experience, and whether they are wrong, they will still do it the next time. It’s just a common human mistake.” 

Harry didn’t know how to answer. 

Later that night, when Harry recalled this conversion while lying in bed, he realized Tom said those most to manipulate him. Guilty trip was a common strategy in manipulation and one he was familiar with. Yet it didn’t invalid the truth the statement held. 

He thought about Dumbledore, how he based his whole impression of Tom Riddle on their first meeting. 

He thought about Snape, who hated Harry from the start because of Harry’s father. 

They had their reasons, and they were ultimately good men, but it didn’t make what they had done right. 

‘Am I making the same mistake?’ was Harry’s last thought before drifting into blankness. 

That night he had the best sleep of the year. 


	2. The Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom took Harry out on a field trip. Accidents happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains mild gore, nothing too explicit. Just put a warning to be safe.

Emerald eyes blinked open slowly.

The sun shone high above sky, painting every corner of the room golden and bright. 

Harry lifted himself up with one elbow, rubbing his eyes languidly. 

He rarely bothered to close curtains. When he woke up, sweat soaked and shaking, it was usually cold moonlights that greeted him. He would sit in dark, staring at nothing in particular, and waited for the long tortuous hours till dawn. It was his routine unless a dreamless potion was taken, which he deemed unnecessary since neither insomnia nor nightmare was unfamiliar to him.

But today sitting under warm sunlight, he realized what wonder a good night’s sleep could do to a person. 

His steps were light and bouncing slightly when he descended stairs, even the sight of his unwelcomed guest didn’t falter his good mood. 

“Rest well, sleeping beauty?” 

Tom smiled up at him from his seat beside window, an open book on laps. The outline of his stupidly handsome face glowed under bright sunshine, giving it a soft edge that made him look young and alive. 

Harry told himself if his heart skipped a beat it had everything to do with mouthwatering smells from coffee, bacon, and pastries. 

“Did you flirt with anyone on a whim?” Pouring milk and sugar into a cup of black coffee, which he usually preferred plain to chase away sleepiness and exhaustion but decided against it today, Harry sat down in front of his breakfast. He noticed they were put under preserving spells by Kreacher. It seemed he had really slept too well today; it was more like a brunch than a breakfast. 

“Only the ones I found beautiful, a compliment a very small number of people were granted.” Tom said in a matter-of-fact tone. 

Harry snorted. “How flattery, but sorry to disappoint I don’t reciprocate the feeling. I’m not gay.”

“Admiration for beauty is not necessarily related to sexuality.” His voice was amusing when he replied, no doubt taking notice of Harry’s averting eyes. “In fact, quite a few men had been willing to make an exception for me.”

“Being so sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Harry said dryly. 

“Oh yes, confidence is a crucial component of my charms.” Tom grinned. 

Harry rolled eyes and ignored the smug face in favor of his food. He would not be surprised if the man were proven to be Voldemort merely for his high ego, though Harry was giving him the benefit of doubt now. He recalled the letter he wrote to Kinsley last night. He had cautioned the wizard for potential movements from imprisoned Death Eaters but hadn’t specified his reasons. He then sent Patronus to Ron and Hermione requiring both of their silence on Tom’s presence. He had explained that it wouldn’t do to paint a target on a possibly innocent man.

‘I’m not being manipulated.’ Harry thought, biting into his bacon. ‘I’m just trying to do things the right way.’

When the breakfast-turned-brunch drew near an end, Tom put his book down and walked toward the dining table. 

“Do you have any plans today, Harry?” 

“If you are proposing a date,” Sipping the remaining coffee, Harry squinted at the man under his glasses. “I refuse.” 

“It’ll be a lovely idea.” Those chuckles annoyed Harry to no end, especially after realizing he did not particularly hate them. “But I think what I have in mind is closer to adventures of the sorts.” With a flick of wrist, Tom summoned something from his pocket. 

Harry was more curious to the stuff to jab at the man’s showiness. 

It was an old parchment, with wriggled lines and tiny dots scattering on it. Under every dot wrote several words in an unfamiliar language. Despite layers of protective and preserving charms put on it, the material was yellowing and looked brisk, indicating its age. It reminded Harry something he had seen in muggle films Dudley used to like. 

“Is this a treasure map?” His face lightened up, eyes sparkling with anticipation. It didn’t have skeleton marks like those pirate’s ones, but he was sure those dots represented some kind of locations.

“Although it’s not about treasures in conventional definitions like jewelers or gold, certain groups of people, such as historians, will trade thousands to get a hold on it.” Tom smiled pleasantly seeing the expression on Harry’s face. “Luckily, I was able to purchase it from a muggle salesman who had no idea the value of it on my journey to Indonesia.”

“You’ve been to Indonesia? I don’t know anyone who has gone there before. And what exactly is this map about if it doesn’t contain hidden treasures?” Harry’s chest was exploding with curiosity and excitement. He suddenly was eleven again, before the burden of savior befell him, before the pain of war hit him. He was just a boy who dreamed freedom and adventures, ready to explore a brand-new magical world presented to him. 

“Eager, aren’t you?” Tom smirked, arching an eyebrow. “How about I answer your questions on our way?” 

Yes, let’s go. Harry wanted to say, but he also knew he was not a child who didn’t know better before diving into dangers anymore. If war taught him anything, it was timing for when to venture and when to be cautious. 

“Let me inform my friends first in case something happened.” Harry lifted his wand, summoning the mist of stag. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s not that I don’t trust your ability to not endanger us, but a man can never be more careful. Old habits die slow.” He explained, wishing Tom would not notice he was more worried about the wizard’s actions than some unknown circumstances. 

Fortunately, Tom’s attention was transfixed on the beautiful white creature forming in front of them. He merely waved a dismissive hand. “Suit yourself. If anything, I’m glad you are not as reckless as those story heroes who just go and strike dragons with a bloody sword.” 

Harry hid his snicker. What would the man say if he knew Harry had fought a dragon with a broom? 

“Go to Hermione and Ron.” Harry wore a warm smile seeing the Patronus that took the same form as his father’s, patting the stag’s head affectionally. “Tell them this: I’ll fire-call you tonight. If there are no contacts until tomorrow morning, tell Kinsley.” He then sent the animal off. 

However, something unexpected happened. Before the stag left, it marched to where Tom stood. The wizard seemed as surprised by this development as Harry. His body tensed as the translucent creature circled him, but when it nudged his face, Tom relaxed and stroked its antler fondly. His laugh was soft and mirthful. 

Harry stared at the pair, shocked. He remembered some people saying that Patronus was a manifestation of soul which could express the owner’s deepest desire. He recalled tales saying eyes as windows of one’s soul that could connect to others. Combining the mysterious connection and behaviors of his Patronus today, Harry came to a horrified realization: his soul was calling out to Tom. 

How was this possible? Harry didn’t believe in soul mates, and he knew there wasn’t such thing. But there were soul-bounds that did exist; something he was very familiar with. 

Gazing at Tom, whose eyes were following the stag out of window, Harry felt sick. His previous good mood had completely vanished. He prayed whatever god, if there was one, that his speculation was wrong. The idea was purely revolting. There was no way his soul would miss that veil man who killed his parents and destroyed countless lives. And logically speaking, it was impossible. No one could come back to life even with the resurrection stone, and no one had ever fooled Gringotts’ blood tests. Yet, he couldn’t ignore his gut’s feeling that he had hit right on target. 

Unaware of Harry’s inner tornado, or intentionally ignoring it, the devil turned to face him and smiled. Harry hated how deceptively innocent it looked on the man’s face. “Your Patronus is overly friendly. Has it happened before?” 

“Yeah, it’s normal.” Harry lied, voice hoarse. 

Tom hummed, not showing if he believed or not. He walked closer to the shorter wizard, who was trying very hard not to flinch back with the shortened distance. 

“Should we go, then?” Warm breath brushed against his forehead, and Harry _loathed_ how the height difference made him feel vulnerable. “It has already passed noon, and where we are going becomes more dangerous as the day passes. Unless you want a night stroll with werewolves and trolls?” 

Harry balled his fists. He wanted to smack himself for even believing for a second the man might be innocent. He wanted to range, to yell at this man to stop lying. He wanted to draw his wand, to fight, sending this monster back to where he should be. But what good would losing his temper bring? He still had all speculations but no substantial evidence that Tom could not easily deny, and he still didn’t know how and why the man came to be.

Taking a deep breath, in and out, Harry nodded. He was stubborn, so when he had already made his decision, he would not regret it. Thus, in spite of everything he discovered today, he would not act until his assumptions were firmly proven. He would get to the bottom of the whole thing, and if worse came to worst, he would defeat the man again. 

He was not afraid of the dark lord. He had done this before; he could do it again. 

“Let’s go.”

* * *

Tom apparated them, landing in the middle of a forest. Sunlight was much subdued in this area, blocked by flourishing leaves growing on branches wide stretching from short but strong boles. 

Harry was too disorientated to observe further. No matter how many side-along apparitions he had taken before, Harry still couldn’t get used to the unpleasant feeling. His stomach churned, swaying on his feet, but when Tom tried to steady him, he flapped the man’s hands away. 

“You are sullen.” The wizard remarked. “What had I done to offend you?” 

“Nothing.” Harry closed his eyes, wishing the vertigo away. 

“Now, that’s a lie.” Cracking one eye open, Harry found Tom was wearing his stupid smirk again. They were really granting on Harry’s nerves. 

“What?” He groused out. 

“Does it bother you, Harry, that your Patronus is drawn to me?” 

Harry froze. He hastily looked away when the man tried to catch his eyes, then hating himself for this. It made him feel like a coward. 

Out the corner of his eyes, he saw Tom’s smile, too sharp and all teeth. 

“Is that so hard to admit to yourself what you truly desire?” The man continued, gaze never wavering from Harry’s face. 

Harry cursed inwardly. He should figure the man had not believed his excuse earlier, and what better time to act out when he got Harry to somewhere nobody could interrupt immediately?

Gripping the holly wand tightly in hand, Harry warned. “Leave it, Dunkle.”

“And what if I don’t?” Tom challenged, raising his chin up. 

Harry clutched his wand tighter, staring hard at his opponent, ready to a fight. He had thought the faked peace would last longer before the man broke his mask, but really, he should know better than to predict Tom’s next move after what happened yesterday. 

A roar thundering in depth of the woods broke whatever tension held between the pair at once. 

“What’s that?” Alarmed, Harry pointed his wand in the direction of the sound. Even from afar, he could tell it came from nothing friendly. 

“Well, that’s unexpected.” Tom knit his brows, mimicking Harry’s stance. For the first time since Harry met him, the wizard showed something other than amusement or impassiveness. His expression was serious, which alarmed Harry more. 

“Damn it, Tom! What is it?!” Harry hissed, voice unintentionally getting louder as panic rose. 

“You will notice, Harry,” The wizard threw him a cold look. “that your noise may just give out our exact location.” 

Harry’s mouth clenched shut. He glanced around rapidly for a potential way out, but soon found they were encompassed by thick fog appearing from nowhere. He then attempted apparition, resulting in no avail. “Shit!” He cursed, feeling entrapped. His breath shuddered, heart beating deafeningly in his ears. 

“Where we are is called Wistman’s Woods by muggles nowadays, but what they don’t know is this place belonged to Druids thousands of years ago, even before Romans set foot on this island.” Ironically, it was Tom’s voice that calmed Harry. Although the man was dangerous and who Harry was ready to fight only a moment ago, he was also the most familiar thing in this unknown situation. ‘Better to fight devils you did know.’ Harry remembered an old muggle saying. 

“So those locations on that map are relics of Druids’ residences.” Harry guessed, then breathing out a humorless laugh. “And of course they had put some guardians against intruders. You wouldn’t be so kind to warn me what precisely we were get into, would you?”

“Miscalculations happened.” Tom admitted, sounding thoroughly unapologetic. “Normally, even the most powerful magical enhancement would wear out a hundred years after the casters’ death. Unless they are maintained and upgraded by current owners, like Hogwarts; or they have been constantly fed even without supervisions.” 

Just as Harry opened mouth asking Tom to elaborate, something shot out of the fog with an inhuman speed. 

Reflexively, Harry cried, “ _Protégo_!”

Although the shield blocked the direct impact, it was unable to withstand its remaining force, shuttering and sending Harry flying back. He heard someone murmuring a cushioned charm before hitting a tree trunk. The landing was alleviated yet nevertheless painful. 

Harry groaned. Thankfully, his glasses were still on his nose if a bit askew. With one arm propping his upper body up from the ground, he lifted wand and poured as much power as he could manage into an overpowering _Lumos_. 

Strong, blinding lights penetrated through dense fog, sweeping away mists on the way, and gave Harry a clear view. The first thing he noticed was the shrubs and short logs they were surrounded earlier were all replaced by lush towering trees. Then he saw it. Tearing down sturdy boles like snapping off fragile twigs, an enormous, stone-made Colossus approached them. 

It was at least ten meters tall, with thorny vines and evergreen leaves enwinding on its rocky body. Its chameleon liked head was firmly welded in a body similar to a lizard’s. Although it had no eyes, there were runes carved on where the apparatus should be, enabling it to sense its surroundings. Harry saw the long, prickly tail stretching out behind its clawed-like back legs, realizing it must be what attacked them earlier. He repressed a shudder imagining what would happen if he hadn’t cast the _Protégo_ in time. 

“Amazing.” Crouching a few meters away—no doubt being throwed back like Harry was though somehow looking far more collected—Tom breathed. “For as long as writing records can trace back, the Prototype of Golems is merely a legend. Now the proof is right in front of our eyes.” 

Harry didn’t doubt it would be a ground-breaking discovery. The Colossus was a fantastic piece of work. Harry couldn’t begin to fathom how many efforts had been put into the giant statue before any part of it was able to move, but he had a far more pressing matter to consider than appreciating a complicated magical construction. 

“How the _fuck_ can we get out of here if apparition doesn’t work?” Harry yelled at the top of his lungs, narrowly dodging a falling trunk that hit the place he was at seconds ago. 

“We could always try Fiendfyre.” Tom’s voice coming from the other side of the log was miffed by noise from trees dropping and hitting the ground. 

“No way!” As the Colossus’s tail swept down more trees and flung them at Harry, he transfigured one of the logs into a huge, elastic web that bounded them away from their target. This trick took a lot of concentration and power to achieve, but Harry had been able to practice in one of the trainings he took with Ron and Neville. “What if we still can’t apparate after that thing was burned to ashes? We will be trapped in the fire and burned alive!” This time he remembered he was a wizard and cast a _Sonorus_ instead of shouting. 

He didn’t hear Tom’s answer but saw a massive controlled tornado forming not far away. The whirlwind uprooted woods, bushes, and rocks, sucking them all into its body, growing larger and stronger, and marched to where the Colossus was making a roar. It was an excellent idea. Harry could give the wizard that. Even if the tornado didn’t break the Colossus down, it surely would thwart the giant’s movement, giving them more time to figure out its weakness. 

Harry kept running and dodging any obstacles flying to his way, getting closer and closer to where the Colossus was fighting the artificial wind. He saw Tom standing a few steps behind the scene, unbothered by all the chaos around him. Head holding high, herm of black robes wavering in the air, Tom brandished his wand like a conductor moving his baton, and the battlefield was his orchestra to command. Looking at the man, Harry suddenly had a _deja vu_ of his fifth year. The wizard’s already pale skin lost all health color, becoming alabaster, and the dark brown eyes morphed into crimson with fire burning in the intense gaze. Harry shook head to clear the illusion and scowled himself for losing concentration in a battle.

Just when Harry thought about casting a slippery spell beneath the Colossus’ feet to imbalance it, his movement was stopped abruptly. “What—” He looked down. Thick thorns sprouting out of dirt crept on his legs, entwining, and locked him in place. This moment of distraction cost his chance of reacting in time to the Colossus’ strike. 

‘Oh, no.’ Wide eyed staring at the coming monstrous tail, Harry considered the anticlimactic of his impending death. 

Before spikes impaled his body, something bumped into him and Harry fell back. 

* * *

He hit the ground hard. 

Seeing stars dancing in front of close eyelids, Harry felt light-headed, yet realizing he had no time to dwell on the dizziness. His immediate reaction was to roll aside to escape the Colossus’ next attack, but firstly found he was surrounded by unusual silence, and secondly a body was lying on top of him. 

Dark hair filled his vision when he opened eyes. 

“Tom?” Harry blinked, and furrowed when the wizard didn’t respond. 

He put hands on Tom abdomen and pushed. “Hey, get up. We should move—” Harry’s words died in mid-sentence as his hands got in contact with something warm and sticky. 

His eyes widened comically, red flag rising in his head. He rolled the man off and was stunned by the sight greeting him. Right in the middle of the wizard’s torso, crimson fluids were gushing out of a deep, bloody wound, spreading rapidly on the torn robe, and stained the black cloth into dark maroon. 

Harry must be in shock for some time because the next thing he noticed was Tom’s coughing. 

“I was right.” Tom gasped, coughing up blood as he spoke. “The ward is fed by strayed animals and humans venturing into its territory for thousands of years. The Colossus is just a part of it, an alerting device; it’s the whole forest. Won’t you see, Harry? The forest is alive! That’s why those plants hindered your movement. The forest longs to be fed, to devour us, and now we are right in its stomach.” He waved arms, pointing at skeletons scattering around them, ranging from sparrows to human skulls. The soils had a reddish color, having no doubt absorbed incalculable amount of blood through the years. 

But Harry only had eyes for the bleeding wizard lying in front of him. He was confused beyond himself. He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh at Tom’s peculiarities—who the _fuck_ jumped into theory explanations when they had a hole on their body?! Or he wanted to scream at this man for his recklessness. Boiling anger rose in his chest, and Harry was upset and frustrated because he didn’t know where it came from. 

“I thought you fear death.” He gritted out, hands clutching in a white-knuckled fist. “I thought you despise foolhardiness. But why? Why you did this!” Harry was no longer able to keep his emotions in check while staring at the hideous wound that should be on his body. It mocked him, for his carelessness and for the fact now he was in debt to a man he least wanted to be owned in the world. 

“If I tell you that your death will deeply trouble me, will you believe?” Tom’s voice was calm despite the raspy quality. 

Harry moved his gaze away from the injury to stare straight into the wizard’s eyes. At this moment, he didn’t care what he would feel from the eye-contact. He was already in an emotional mess anyway. He pushed his confusion and anger to the forefront of his mind to suppress the happiness assaulting him while searching for answers in the dark brown eyes. There, he found nothing but sincerity. 

Tom cracked a sly smile at Harry’s uncomprehending face. Blood dripping down his jaw, crimson stood in drastic contrast with pale skin, making it an eerily beautiful sight. “What had I said about assumptions and human mistakes?” 

“This could all be an elaborate plan to win my trust and throw me into a life-debt.” Harry murmured unsurely, dropping his gaze down when he could no longer bear feelings the connection created. 

“What do you think I am, a masochistic seer who foresees dangers and actively seeks to be penetrated because I want people to own me?” Tom laughed, then going into another coughing fit when he inhaled too hard. Harry would snort at the innuendo if he didn’t saw a small blood pond gathering on the grass. By all means Tom should stop bleeding now. As a wizard he naturally had a stronger recovering ability, so even if this kind of injury would kill muggles without proper treatment, wizards could hold on for a lot longer and recover when fed blood-replenish potions later. However, even wizards could not withstand too much blood lost. 

“…Besides there will be no life-debts. Don’t think I haven’t taken precautions when rescuing you—if this were the case, we would be like meats on a stick now. The wound looks horrified but it’s not deadly. If you just wrap my torso up a bit and remove me from this area, all will be fine…” Tom explained, voice growing weaker as he continued. Harry was alarmed to see the wizard’s eyes were half-opened, and his breathing was becoming shallower. 

“Hey…hey, don’t sleep!” Harry flapped the barely conscious wizard’s face, trying to awake him. “Do you know any spells to stop bleeding? Cause I’m trash at healing and your blood keeps flowing out!” 

Harry’s effort was in vain. Tom only mumbled something like ‘Just do as I said’ before passing out. Harry swore, but immediately got in action. The possibility of leaving the man to bleed to death and consequently solving all his problems at present didn’t even cross his mind. He muttered an apology to a nearest skull and transfigured it into bandages that were long enough to wrap around Tom’s waist. He carefully cleared dirt and sands sticking around the wound to prevent infections before tying the bondages. After applying enough of them until he couldn’t see the bleeding, Harry casted a feather-light spell on the unconscious wizard and stood up. 

Glancing around, Harry understood why Tom had called this place ‘ _The forest’s stomach_.’ Trees around them had changed again. They were neither short and sturdy like where he first landed, nor erect and towering when he fought the Colossus. Tons of vines drop down from screwy branches that stuck out of boles twisting and intertwining with their neighbors. It was hard to describe where one ended and other started. They were tangled together, yet not in disorder, weaving into a convoluted net that entrapped preys unfortunately fallen under their traps. Harry felt a chill climbing into his bones when he realized skeletons were not only on the ground. They were everywhere, hanging on vines, stuck in convolving boles, and Harry even caught sight of a half-rotten fox’s corpse burying under an extended root. 

‘Shit, this place is like a nightmare in materialization.’ Harry thought as he gripped his wand tighter. The air felt compressed, filling with some kind of magic. Harry assumed that magic was what prevented them from apparating, and what stopped wounds from healing. Hadn’t Tom said something along the lines ‘The whole forest is a ward’? Harry was not sure but decided to follow his instincts. If he guessed right, he would be able to apparate the moment he left the ward.

Harry exhaled and concentrated, letting his magic flow out to sense the ward, probing here and there to decide where the weakest place was. He was not an expert, but he had learned basics when he sorted through wards in Grimmauld Place. Usually the older the wards were, and the more creators taken to construct them were, the harder anyone could explore their ways through them. Thus, a ward not only existed more than a thousand of years but also taken Merlin knew how many Druids to create was bound to be difficult.

Beads of sweat forming on creased eyebrows, Harry felt his magic was like a single torch in a sea of mists, unable to reach an end let alone to decide the correct direction. Adding the fact he was working without rest since fighting the Colossus, the beginning of magical exhaustion appeared in the form of quivering hands and bucking knees. Harry was stubborn though. He refused to fall prey to the bloodthirsty forest, especially when he carried the responsibility of another life. (He was deliberately leaving his complicated feeling for Tom to slip aside now. There was plenty of time to sort them out later, after escaping to safety.) 

‘There must be a way…think. Harry, think. You’ve been through countless dangers, and every time you got out. You’ve fought a basilisk, dementors, a dragon and a dark lord, so some trees will never stop you.’ Having reassured himself, Harry started recalling every details of events that had taken place today. He remembered having a late breakfast, and then Tom suggested to explore some locations on a map…The map! Green eyes shot open, and Harry tried to summon the parchment right away. Luckily, the sheet was not lost nor broken in the battle, flying out of Tom’s right pockets into Harry’s hand. Harry scanned the parchment, seeking anything relatively helpful to their plight. 

At time like this, Harry always lamented his lake of knowledge in runes and ancient languages. He wished he had taken study more seriously in his school years, like Hermione, so he wouldn’t stare at unfathomable digits like a fool. He was not Hermione though, he had to do things in his way. Harry gave up on comprehending those ancient words, instead focusing on the map in general. Then he noticed that every small gathering of dots on the map was somehow connected to a larger one on the lower right. 

‘Could that be?’ Harry thought as he concentrated once more to touch the ward, but this time he imagined he was right in the middle of that large gathering the map depicted, tracing back path leading to the place. At once he sensed them, thine, twisted but definitely existing magic threads leading away from here. With hope and excitement blooming in chest, Harry compared routes on the parchment and threads he felt in his magic, and finally determined a shortest way out. 

Levitating Tom’s now much lighter body to firmly rest on his back, Harry wrapped the man’s elbows around his neck and cast a spell to immobilize them there, so he had uncopied hands to use wand. The faint breath brushing against his earlobe grounded Harry in a way he was not ready to admit. 

“You know,” Harry murmured to the unconscious wizard, even as the man couldn’t hear. “if you die on me, I will single-handed bring you back again just to strangle you.”

Harry began to move. With each step taken, the air became more suffocating. There was no wind, yet Harry saw vines and leaves moving at the periphery of his vision. Thorns and bushes blocked the path that he was sure unobstructed not long ago, and soils got muddier and swampier the further he walked along the road. 

“Get away.” Harry snarled, slicing down shrubs with fan-like leaves he couldn’t name. He didn’t know how many times he had done the same motion, waving wand to cut a way through the woods. His limbs were sore from overuse, and he dearly hoped there weren’t anything poisonous because he had a fair amount of scratches on his arms and legs when passing by plants with pointed edges. He would cast an _Aguamenti_ to relieve the dryness in his throat if not for the strain he felt on his magic core. 

‘It’s almost there.’ Harry encouraged himself. ‘Just keep walking.’ Sensation of time became wired when one stayed in dark for too long. Harry couldn’t decide if it was still daytime from lights that was dulled significantly by thick leaves towering over him. He wished they were moonlights, so Hermione and Ron would already be aware of his absence. He felt bad to worry his two best friends, but he really didn’t know whether he would have enough energy to call for help after apparating. 

Relief flooded into him when a small clearing emerged at the end of boles and branches. Harry was a little disappointed to see the brightness outside, but the disappointment soon turned into alertness as fog began to form. The last time they were encircled by fog a Colossus attacked them. 

“Damn, not again!” Harry cursed and started to run as fast as he could. His legs felt like jelly, only acting under pure stubbornness. His back was soaking, and Harry didn’t know if the wetness was his sweat or Tom’s blood seeping through bondages. He dodged and sliced anything trying to stop him, thorns spurting out of the ground, vines attempting to catch his arms, and flying stones aiming at his head. 

The fog was getting denser, blurring his vision. Harry could hear heavy footsteps sounding in the distance, and he didn’t dare to ponder too carefully what did that mean. He ran and ran, until his legs were numb, until his breath became painful and lungs were on fire, and yet he kept running. 

The moment he felt the ward release him, Harry apparated. As he crumpled to the carpet in front of the fireplace, Harry saw two appalled faces of his best friends before exhaustion caught up and he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the life-debt part, I took a slightly different explanation than Rowling's, that 'A life-debt only validates when one party risks his or her life to save the other party.' That's why Tom said there wouldn't be life-debt because the wound was not deadly. However, the real reason why Harry doesn't own Tom a life-debt is not that.


End file.
